Busted
by Frecko
Summary: Two peasants come to Camelot seeking the last Dragonlord. Because you obviously can't kill a dragon without one, right? One shot. No slash. Reveal fic... sort of.


**Disclaimer: Roses are red, Violets are blue, Merlin's not mine, so please don't sue.**

Busted

"What is your business in Camelot?" the king asked. His tone had a hidden softness, but these peasants wouldn't be able to hear it, as they did not know the king in person. On his left, a beautiful woman sat on the other throne, ready to listen to whatever the two peasants would say and judge it with fair and just. The new comers hoped that the king's reputation was true, because if not… they would be in trouble.

The King sighed silently. It had been a rather uneventful day in the heart of Camelot, until someone had requested an audience with the king. And still, that wasn't really that exiting.

"My Lord," he bowed, "we have come to ask thee for help." Arthur nodded. Nothing new there. But then again, if there was trouble, why hadn't he heard of it?  
"We come from a village in the outcast of Mercia," Aah, that explained it, "but our king could not help us." Could? Had Arthur heard wrong? "He said to come here and ask for help." There was an uncomfortable silence as the peasant took a breath.  
"A wyvern has attacked our village, and it cannot be defeated by any ordinary weapon." Were they suggesting magic? Then Camelot was the wrong place. "We have heard that they had killed the Great Dragon," The King nodded, proud, "and we wanted to humbly ask where to find…" he stopped as if afraid of saying the words, "the dragon lord."  
Whispers started in the Courtroom and briefly Arthur imagined his father having this man taken to the dungeons, immediately. But he wasn't his father.  
"The last dragon lord is dead. And why would you want to find him anyway?" It was a curious tone, but the peasant heard it as inquiring.  
"The wyverns are close to the dragons and can be controlled by the dragon lords too." The man said pretty quickly and his eyes found the floor. After a moment's thought the man behind him looked up, curious and questioning, not really afraid. He was a little smaller than the other man, and his emerald eyes were almost glinting.  
"But if you did not get help from a dragon lord, how did you kill The Great Dragon? No ordinary weapon can be used against it, and besides, it is a very powerful magical creature, and very hard to defeat." Apparently he was not afraid at all. Arthur was a little taken back by this question and did honestly not know what to say. He looked briefly at his clumsy manservant and then back to the brave man.  
"All I know is, that Balinor is dead, and that we unfortunately cannot help you." Unconsciously he was changing the subject. The other man, with the brown eyes, said matter-of-factly:  
"Oh, but we know that Balinor is dead, we had just thought you had found his son." This caught the King's attention, "His son?"  
"Yes, my lord, the legacy of a dragon lord is passed from father to son."  
"So you know he had a son?" He shook his head vigorously as if trying to shake something off. "We were just guessing, or well, hoping." Arthur felt sympathy for the man.  
"Where are you going now, then?" The man seemed surprised that the king was interested in the lives of the commoners.  
"We have heard that Balinor stopped in a village in Cenred's Kingdom, for a little time, all those…" the man seemed to count in his head, "23 years ago." Merlin gulped.  
"Tell me, what is the name of the village?" Merlin looked at his king, annoyed. Did he honestly have to ask that question?  
"It started with an E… E…what was it?" He snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. Ealdor."  
"Ealdor." Arthur said slowly through gritted teeth. "I have good news for you, then." He stood up, his hand leaving Guinevere's.  
"Merlin here grew up in Ealdor. He can help you." He put a hand on the warlock's shoulder while looking at the two men's expressions.  
"So, Merlin…" he turned around to look at him."If supposedly this man exists, he would have grown up in Ealdor, be approximately 23 years old, wait you're 23 aren't you?" Merlin nodded, feeling guilty, but most of all busted."He would be your age, he would not know his father, probably have dark hair, oh, and be a dragon lord. Sound like anyone you know?"

It was over. Merlin knew that. He had expected Arthur to do a lot of things. He could stare at him and say: Seriously, sound like anyone you know, but then again, Arthur wasn't that stupid. He could be mad at him for not telling him, probably the most likely. But before Merlin could play more possible scenarios in his head, the king leaned over and whispered two words.

"I'm sorry."


End file.
